


invitation

by smithens



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Canon Era Fusion, Ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 13:46:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10309469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithens/pseuds/smithens
Summary: A kiss on the neck.





	

Enjolras opens the door to his flat with no other words but “come in”.

Feuilly follows, relieved at the privacy of Enjolras’s one-room apartment, and grateful he was invited to visit, rather than the other way around. He closes his eyes and leans upon the door. Moments pass. Across the room, Enjolras fiddles with a tinderbox. The sounds which accompany the motion are so distinct that he can picture the action in his head: Enjolras’s slender, white fingers pressing flint to steel, catching sparks.

If he were ever to paint something other than a landscape or pastoral for a lady’s fan again, Enjolras would be the first on his list of subjects.

“You have done this before,” Feuilly says. He says it to convince himself. There is a twist in his stomach, from nerves and from hunger. Enjolras’s skin is already pale. “You won’t weaken.”

He hears the sizzle of a sulphur match, then Enjolras’s footsteps. With the flicker of candlelight disturbing his sense of darkness, Feuilly opens his eyes once more.

“I have,” says Enjolras, solemn. He approaches in long strides. “You know of what I ask; I trust you to observe those boundaries. We have agreed so. That is that, and you need not concern yourself with my disposition further.”

He raises his hand. For a moment, Feuilly anticipates that he might touch his cheek, and gasps despite himself. But Enjolras does no such thing.

Silent, he touches his warm palm briefly to Feuilly’s neck, and then clasps his shoulder. This near to one another, Feuilly can breathe the scent of his hair, his skin - uncomparable, but distinctly pleasant, and distinctly Enjolras. He wonders who else has tasted him, for it is no secret that Enjolras is willing to provide this service among their circle. Then he feels a flash of guilt: were the circumstances different, he would provide the same, for his companions.

“And you,” Enjolras murmurs, “have you adequately prepared, yourself?”

Feuilly nods, and then Enjolras is leading him to the bed.

It is not a setting which Feuilly prefers, and not one which he would have expected Enjolras to, either. The light of the candle, too, gives his room a strange ambiance. Feuilly has grown accustomed, somehow, to darkness in this act.

“Enjolras,” he says, as they settle: Enjolras lying down, his golden hair spread about the pillow, one leg bent toward the ceiling, and Feuilly, crouched beside him, his knees sinking into the mattress. “What do you think of?”

There is a beat. 

Enjolras’s heartbeat speeds; Feuilly’s thoughts slow. Now, he can focus.

“Dawn,” says Enjolras finally. “The republic.” He tilts his head just so. That is invitation enough: Feuilly lowers his head.

When Enjolras speaks again, it is as though into his ear: “and above all, what I might do that you may see them both.”

His body arcs.

Feuilly presses his lips to Enjolras’s neck, punctures the skin where it has been broken many times before, and drinks.

**Author's Note:**

> this was going to be silly but it ended up not being that. (this filled a prompt from fixaidea on tumblr! ...for the kiss, not the vampires.)
> 
> [find me on tumblr as [smithensy](http://smithensy.tumblr.com/)]


End file.
